On the Wings of a Butterfly
by Ph0enix-Flyer
Summary: Merlin's magic is revealed and Arthur struggles with his views on magic and the issue of trust. It takes talks with Gwen and Gaius, as well as a display of innocent magic viewed secretly from a bush, to make him realise that nothing which truly mattered has ever really changed. Post-S3, will now be considered AU.
1. On the Wings of a Butterfly

On the Wings of a Butterfly

It was over.

The battle had been bloody and long. For the third time in just over the span of a year, the lower town had been taken by the enemy and was badly damaged because of it. But true to form, the citadel remained un-taken and civilian casualties had been blessedly minimal. Camelot's knights, however, were not so lucky. At least a score of them had been killed, with twice as many injured in some form or another. By some good fortune, none who were seated at the Round Table had been amongst either of these groups.

Yet to Arthur, Crowned Prince and Regent, it still felt like a terrible, terrible loss.

Although the walls had not been breached, they were badly damaged. The enemy's war machines – greater in size and number than even the ones Cenred's army had been able to produce – had ripped mercilessly into their defences. One of the great towers of the castle had fallen after being subject to multiple hits from catapults and the courtyard was currently inaccessible due to the fallen masonry. Cracks raced up many of the walls in the grand hallways, most of the windows in the castle had been blown-out and the throne room was destroyed – thanks to a shot that was more likely due to luck than any real skill.

But that was not the worst of it.

Camelot's lands were fertile. Like much of Albion it was surrounded by rich forests, full of animals and practically oozing natural beauty. Crops did well here, producing a bountiful harvest each year which meant that all of Camelot's people were usually fed. The enemy forces had taken great satisfaction in destroying as much of this as possible.

Now, standing on the walls he had been fighting on only a few hours ago, Arthur could feel the despair crashing down on him as he looked out across his beloved Kingdom.

The bastards had burnt it – they'd burnt it _all_.

As far as Arthur could see, the forest surrounding the castle was a blackened mess, still coughing up smoke from fires that were only just starting to die out. It would take the land years to recover and would mean many hard years ahead for the people; famine was going to be a major concern. The air reeked of ash and death and even the sky was dark and overcast, with the afternoon sun only just struggling through.

Arthur was compassionate, and he knew that the people of Camelot loved him for it. However, looking out there, he was mortified to realise that his throat was aching and his eyes were stinging. He coughed and swiped at his sweaty, ash-streaked face in frustration. He _would not_ cry now. Compassionate or not, he was the Prince Regent. His father, King Uther – driven half-mad by Morgana's betrayal – had never really recovered and was literally locked in his room to keep him safe. He needed to be strong for Camelot, for the people.

The sound of tumbling rock prompted him to look down into the ruined courtyard. A couple of the uninjured knights – Sirs Percival and Leon among them – were helping some servants to start the laborious process of clearing the debris. The task of moving the dead had been completed and Arthur deliberately kept his gaze forward, away from the neat rows of blanket-covered bodies behind him which had been placed on the grassy area used for training. They would be laid to rest soon enough. The only issue that remained was _where_.

"My Lord?" So much for keeping his gaze away...

Almost reluctantly turning around, Arthur made sure to keep his face neutral; there was much work to be done and he needed to be strong and lead them through it. The young page boy standing before him looked wretched; his eyes were dull with exhaustion and his face was pale, his uniform was askew and covered in dirt and ash. Like many others he probably hadn't slept since the battle preparations began.

_This destruction is not something a young boy like that should ever have to see_.

"Yes Jarda, what is it?" His tone sounded flat even to his own ears, but Jarda didn't seem to notice, bowing respectfully before he began.

"The last bodies have been collected, Sire. And the wounded have been moved to the hospital that the physician has set up." Arthur flinched at the reference to Gaius, it made Arthur think of _him_. But Jarda carried on speaking, completely oblivious. "He says he's running low on herbs for poultices and potions, Sire, but there is enough water and bandages and he has many helping hands..."

Arthur continued listening as Jarda filled him in on the other various goings on around the castle before scurrying away again. Sighing, he brought up his hands to rub at his temples – he was getting the beginnings of a major headache. But he brought them quickly back down to his sides though as he saw a familiar figure walking towards him, one that caused a small amount of peace to settle back into his heart.

Guinevere looked as harried as the page boy had been. Like most everyone in the castle, she was covered in ash from the fires and looked completely exhausted. She'd been helping to care for the wounded during the battle and her presence brought a semblance of cheer to Arthur – if Gwen was here then Gaius must have been confident he could handle the injured himself, which was good news. The small smile she gave him seemed to be forced, but he could see in her eyes that she was glad to see him. Now just wasn't the time for smiles – he was pretty sure his answering one was more of a grimace. Arthur opened his arms in invitation and she immediately stepped into them, burying her face into his chest while he kissed the top of her head softly before resting his cheek in the same spot.

They stood there a while, taking silent comfort from each other and having the chance to just _be_. But time waits for noone. They both reeked of smoke and despair and the time was long gone where Arthur could just forget his duties when in Gwen's arms. He may wish for it, but his duties would not just go away for his love.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." She breathed in reply, pulling away but keeping a hold of Arthur's hands. She glanced out towards the ruined forests before quickly turning back again. Arthur didn't blame her. "Thank the Gods most of the injuries were minor. Nasty and painful, but minor."

She sighed mournfully, looking out across the training field at the dead before shuddering and once again turning back to Arthur. Her eyes were filled with a profound sadness at all the death and destruction and Arthur wished more than anything that he could just will it away.

"Gaius needs more herbs for his medicines though. His stock has quickly run low and obviously we can't just go and search for more, so Elyan has taken a few knights and is searching through the lower town to see if he can find anything we can use. Gwaine and Lancelot went to scout the forest hours ago, just in case anyone was hiding out."

Arthur nodded in approval, pleased with the action his knights had taken without having to be told.

There had originally been a lot of animosity towards his knights. They were commoners after all and in knighting them Arthur had broken centuries of tradition. They had proven themselves many times over though, both in this battle and others, and now they were using their own initiative to help further the Kingdom's recovery. Arthur had little doubt that the issue of whether they were worthy of their titles or not had been well and truly resolved.

"Are _you_ alright?"

"As well as can be expected. That little nick on the shoulder I got has been bandaged and once the courtyard has been cleared we can start-"

"I'm not talking about the battle Arthur." Gwen said, quickly cutting him off. "I'm talking about Merlin."

And at the mention of his manservant's name, Arthur's doors slammed down.

He turned his head towards the ruined town again, looking but not really seeing. In his peripheral vision he could see Gwen trying to catch his eye, but he ignored her. If he looked at her he was afraid she would see the pain in his eyes. His stomach was twisting into hard knots and there was a familiar feeling burning in his chest. He felt Gwen gently take his chin in one delicate hand, turning him to face her.

"You can't ignore it forever Arthur." She murmured softly and Arthur felt his face contort with pain.

"He _lied_ to me Guinevere. Lied to me for _years_. How can I just forgive that?"

"Can you really blame him? Magic is illegal – people are killed for using it, which he has borne witness to in this very courtyard many times. If he had told you, you would have been duty-bound to Uther to have him arrested and sentenced to death, no matter what he used the magic for."

"He could have told me..." He whispered sullenly.

"So this is less about the fact that Merlin _has_ magic, and more about the fact that he didn't trust you with the knowledge of it." It was a statement, not a question.

"I-"

Arthur couldn't continue though, because Gwen had hit the nail on the head – _trust_ was the problem, not the magic.

It had been shocking – to say the least – when Merlin had revealed his powers.

-~-**M**-~-

_The battle had been going badly._

_The enemy army was less than half the size of Camelot's, yet they had at least two sorcerers in their midst. Using some sort of shielding spell, they were able to prevent Camelot's missiles from even getting close to their mark, while at the same time allowing their own weapons to cause utter havoc. Sporadically, the sorcerers had fired bolts of magical energy into Camelot's forces, each taking out more men in a single hit than any of the fireballs from their catapults._

_There was no stopping power like that with steel alone and, for the first time, Arthur had been confronted with the price of his Father's purging of magic from the Kingdom. They had no knowledge of what was happening, no means of retaliation and no way to block it. The enemy was free to advance at their leisure, making sure each area was thoroughly decimated of life before moving forward._

_It was slaughter and they had been helpless to prevent the army from coming right up to Camelot's portcullis, where they leisurely starting using a battering ram, toying with them._

_All hope had seemed lost._

_But then the very air in front of them had seemed to shimmer before a beautiful mother-of-pearl dome of energy stretched along the front of Camelot's forces. Arthur had thought that was the end, and judging by the yells of dismay, most of the others had also. Imagine their surprise when the battering ram and those unfortunate enough to be carrying it were sent careening backwards upon contact and all the enemy projectiles being fired at them seemed to turn to dust._

_Not understanding what was happening, everyone had stopped._

_Yelling in outrage, one of the enemy sorcerers had sent a great bolt of fiery magic screaming towards the energy. Amazingly, it was snuffed out as if it were a mere candle._

_There had been a strange shocked pause before the enemy sorcerers started firing magic – at what Arthur then understood to be a shield of Camelot's own – left, right and centre. The shield didn't even waver. Not once._

"_That can't be Merlin can it?"_

_The puzzled question had come from Sir Leon, stood on the prince's left. Looking past him in the direction the knight was facing, Arthur soon spotted the skinny figure of his manservant. He was stood on the battlement walls at the top of the nearest tower; how the usually clumsy man had managed to get up there without plummeting to his death Arthur wasn't entirely sure. Along the walls, others also turned to face Merlin, all just as perplexed as Arthur himself. In the strange light of the magical shield, Merlin's pasty skin seemed to take on an ethereal glow while the wind whipped at his dark hair and his clothes._

_Enemy sorcerers were still firing magic willy-nilly at Camelot's shield, but still it did not waver. Arthur's gaze was locked on his manservant, a strange feeling of dread growing in his gut. Merlin seemed almost amused at the other sorcerer's efforts._

_In a strange, detached sort of way, Arthur watched as Merlin slowly raised his right arm. Then, Arthur's heart climbed into his throat as Merlin's eyes flashed a brilliant gold. Merlin's own bolt of magic – silvery blue and vaguely arrow-shaped – shot from his outstretched palm towards the enemy's shield, where it hit with a flash of light and one colossal bang. The whole thing shuddered violently and there were more cries of dismay – this time from the enemy side. Arthur could just about see Merlin's face clearly from where he was stood, and he was positive that he had used no words and that the effort the magic had taken him had seemed almost casual, as if he had done no more than flick a crumb from his shirt._

_Behind him, he was aware of Gwaine firing off surprised and awe-filled expletives from where he had been stood on Arthur's right with Percival and Lancelot, whilst in his line of sight Leon and Elyan were staring at Merlin like goats. Their reactions would have been comical in any other circumstance, but Arthur felt like he was almost seperate from the situation, as if it were a dream. Any second now he was going to wake up laughing at it all..._

_It _must_ be a dream, this was too bizarre. Merlin – clumsy, idiotic, scrawny _Merlin_ – was a sorcerer. And a bloody powerful one, at that._

_The enemy sorcerers seemed to try combining their attacks now, firing the biggest bolt yet at Merlin's shield. Again, it just fizzled out against it and again Merlin fired back. This time, with a sound like shattering glass, the enemy shield crumbled._

_Despite his shock, the prince knew an opportunity to push the attack when he saw one. Shoving his feelings to one side Arthur raised his sword and bellowed at the top of his lungs:_

"_For the love of Camelot!"_

_His knights responded immediately, firing on the now defenceless enemy. While firing his own crossbow Arthur was aware of Merlin responding to his clarion-call too; firing four smaller bolts simultaneously, with each taking out one of the catapults in a burst of blue light._

_As quickly as that, the tide of battle turned. Within an hour the enemy was in full retreat with the victorious cheers of Camelot ringing at their backs._

_Amidst his knights, who were smacking each others' shoulders and whooping for joy, Arthur once again looked towards the tower. As Merlin lowered his arm, his shield faded. He still didn't look even the slightest bit fatigued. Arthur's feelings, pushed down before in lieu of more important things, came forward full force. Anger, fear and more than a little betrayal were the most dominant, though he could not deny the awe that was also there._

_Merlin's eyes had met his then, and despite the distance he could see sadness and more than a little fear in the other man's eyes. They were their usual sapphire blue now, but Arthur shuddered as he remembered the way they had blazed gold as Merlin had unleashed his awesome power. If what he had just done was easy for him, who knew what he was truly capable of? Arthur didn't know where to start, what to say. He was still trying to figure out which of his feelings was most dominant. Yes, he was angry – magic was _illegal_ for God's sake. But mostly, he felt the stinging tendrils of betrayal. Why had Merlin kept this from him?_

_They stared at each other a while before Merlin turned, jumped down from the wall and then disappeared into the tower. Arthur thought about going after him – deep down, he didn't like the fearful way Merlin had stared at him. But something in his heart stopped him, something that was feeling bitter and bruised._

_The stupid idiot brought it on himself; let him stew in fear for a bit..._

-~-**M**-~-

Arthur knew that his decision was wrong now, and an extremely childish one besides. He was more than aware that Merlin had pretty much single-handedly saved the Kingdom; Arthur was not going to kill him for that. But by the time he decided to go and find Merlin to talk, he had become caught up in the turmoil of the after-effects of the battle. Camelot came before his and Merlin's feelings after all.

"He was my friend Guinevere," Arthur had never admitted that out loud before, but he felt the need to now in order to try and explain these feelings. "I trusted him, trusted him with everything. If he lied about something as big as him having magic, what else has he lied about?"

Merlin was a clumsy idiot, give him a sword and he'd be more likely to chop off his own head than an enemy's. He was loyal to a fault and would willingly lay down his life for Arthur and for Camelot. He wasn't afraid to express his opinions and damn if Arthur didn't _enjoy_ the banter between them – it made him feel less like a prince and more like an ordinary person. But if he'd learnt anything about magic over the years, it was that magic corrupted people. What if everything he had known about Merlin had just been an act?

There were other issues too. Gaius probably knew – he had to have known. Merlin's mother Hunith must have known too. So who else did? In the aftermath, Arthur hadn't been completely oblivious. He saw the way Lancelot had been looking at him. All of the other knights, even Gwaine, had seemed as shocked as Arthur himself was. But Lancelot didn't seem surprised; in fact he had been studying Arthur, almost as if he were trying to decide how he was taking the knowledge.

Which meant that Lancelot had already known as well.

And that was another stab in the heart for Arthur. He could understand Gaius knowing, after all Merlin lived with the man. But why had Merlin told _Lancelot_ and not him?

Gwen was right. In the end, it wasn't the magic. It all came down to the fact that Merlin hadn't trusted Arthur, hadn't trusted him to do the right thing. Did Merlin truly think that Arthur was that much like his father that he wouldn't hesitate to sentence his closest friend to death? That hurt. It hurt a lot.

"I don't know him anymore Gwen," Arthur said in a tiny voice. "I don't know who he is."

Gwen was quiet for a long time, staring into Arthur's eyes with an expression he couldn't read. Word travelled fast around the castle, so Gwen had heard all about what had happened on the battlefield.

"When I first heard, you know what I felt? I was angry." Arthur just watched her; he had felt the same in the beginning. "He's my best friend and for a while I wondered how much he must value our friendship if he couldn't even tell _me_. But I understand why he didn't. Just as telling you would have strained your honour and your loyalties to your father, it would have destroyed me if I had to keep something as big as that from you. As much as we are suffering for Merlin's choices now, I think he has been suffering more.

"All those coincidences and near-escapes Camelot has had since Merlin arrived here... I wouldn't doubt that he must have had a hand in almost all of them: healing my father during the plague, taking the blame as that old sorcerer, creating that whirlwind back in Ealdor..."

Arthur nodded. Of course it had been Merlin – from griffins to questing beasts and even the defeat of the Great Dragon. It was all so painfully obvious now, Merlin had always been there.

"He put his life on the line time and again and got no recognition, in fact I bet he let you take the credit for a lot of things. On top of that his childhood friend took the blame for the sorcery and died for him and you saw how that devastated him. He had plenty of time to do things to you or to Uther over the years, but he never did. Merlin may be a sorcerer, but I still think he's the same Merlin. Surely not all magic is bad?"

Arthur had often wondered at that. His father was firmly of the belief that magic was evil, that magic corrupted anyone who used it or was associated with it: '_Absolute power corrupts absolutely_'. But what if his father was wrong? Arthur had often wondered about this before, but now that he was effectively being pressured into deciding his opinion of magic, he wasn't so sure what he thought. Despite the betrayal he felt, he _knew_ Merlin wasn't evil. But he had seen the destructive force of magic too many times for that knowledge alone to be sufficient enough to change his mind.

He was snapped out of his musings when he saw Gwaine hurrying towards them.

_Oh God, _please_ don't let him have found something bad_.

"Sire, you should really come and see this."

Gwaine was usually very quirky, his back-talk being similar to Merlin's in a way. But now there was none of his usual sarcasm or 'Princess' comments, just solid formality. Whatever Gwaine wanted to show Arthur was important, and yet he seemed pretty relaxed.

"What is it Gwaine?"

"Err... you really need to see for yourself."

That confused Arthur more, but he didn't question it, turning to face Gwen instead. "Guinevere we'll be-"

"She can come too. In fact, she probably should."

Utterly perplexed now, Arthur shared a bemused glance with Gwen before gesturing for Gwaine to lead the way. Gwaine set off at a trot, Arthur and Gwen on his heels.

-~-**M**-~-

Gwaine led them into the ruined forest. Arthur felt his heart sink even lower seeing the destruction around him.

Many trees were still standing, but they were blackened and dead. Every footfall sent up a cloud of ash and there seemed to be a layer of smog hugging the ground. The smell was just awful, worse than an un-cleaned fireplace in the summer. Worst of all though were the bodies, bodies of various woodland creatures which had been trapped by the flames and lay petrified in the dust. They travelled for about half a mile. The further away they travelled from Camelot, the denser the trees got. Though the destruction was still absolute, there were some dead bushes now too - densely-packed blackened fronds that the three of them had to fight through. Though Gwaine still had his armour on, Arthur had taken his off earlier in order to allow treatment for the minor wound on his shoulder, as a result the bushes snagged abominably at his and Gwen's clothing, making them stumble.

Just as Arthur was going to ask Gwaine where on earth he was taking them, the knight turned around and gestured for quiet, before crouching and making his way towards a denser patch of bushes. Arthur followed, with Gwen just behind. A glint of silver that could only be armour caught his eye. He spotted Lancelot laying on his stomach half-inside a particularly dense bush, with Gwaine settling into a similar position just to the man's left. Arthur felt a familiar ire build up inside of him at the sight of the knight, but he pushed his feelings roughly aside and settled on the other side of Lancelot and Gwen in turn lay down next to him.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked in a low whisper.

In reply, Lancelot inclined his head forwards, prompting Arthur to follow his gaze. The bush they were hiding in was next to a small meadow, though down on this level the smog and ash were so bad Arthur could hardly breathe, let alone see properly; visibility was only a few yards at best. The trees surrounding the meadow were just as dead and the ground was covered in about an inch of soot, like contaminated snow. He was about to turn to Lancelot again when a movement on the other side of the meadow caught his attention. What he saw made him start in surprise.

There, walking like a wraith amongst the trees, was Merlin.

The man was covered from head to toe in soot and – contrary to his many hunting trips with Arthur – he was moving in a way that was ridiculously silent.

_I _knew_ he was deliberately scaring the animals off!_ The thought came before he could stop it and he crushed it with immediate ruthlessness. Of course Merlin had been faking, he was a sorcerer; they were masters at this sort of thing.

But what was he doing out here? Arthur figured that Merlin would be somewhere in the castle, avoiding him. He never believed that Merlin would run – if anything, the one thing that he was still completely sure of was Merlin's courage. Besides, he wouldn't just leave Gaius like that. But then, why was he all the way out here?

Arthur stewed on these thoughts, so he almost missed it when Merlin raised his hand. Waiting with baited breath he watched as Merlin placed his palm on the trunk of the nearest tree. The servant closed his eyes and after a short pause murmured a few words that none of them could quite catch from where they were lying. Once he completed what Arthur figured was a spell, Merlin's eyes snapped open, blazing gold. There was a quiet gasp from Gwen – Arthur forgot this would be the first time she was witnessing Merlin perform magic – and he reached for her hand to both reassure her and to make sure she remained still and silent. The four watched as a soft blue light radiated through the tree in slow waves, reaching from the base of its trunk to the top of its bare branches and lighting it up from the inside-out. After a few seconds the light faded and Merlin removed his hand. Sighing softly, he gently picked with a fingernail at the blackened crust coating the plant. To Arthur's astonishment Merlin eventually uncovered some unblemished, healthy bark. Nodding to himself, the servant moved on.

Arthur's head snapped towards Lancelot.

"He's healing the trees?" He asked incredulously.

Lancelot turned to him and nodded. "He's been at it for hours, since we first came out here and found him."

"He doesn't heal all of them, only one every few yards." Gwaine added with his eyes still fixed on Merlin. "The main thing he's been doing is putting out the fires and getting rid of this damned smog."

As Gwaine spoke, Merlin finished with another tree and stepped into the centre of the little meadow. The four hideaways shrank back, making sure they couldn't be seen. Lifting both of his arms this time and holding them in front of him, Merlin again spoke, in a language Arthur didn't understand.

"_Isenordál sé æðm_."

The group watched as all of the smog seemed to flow into Merlin's hands, coiling like grey serpents. It cleared the air around them and allowed them to breathe easier. It also gave them all a completely clear view of the servant. There was a look of solid determination on his face and Arthur had the strange thought that maybe Merlin was trying to distract himself from something.

His thoughts were cut off once again as in a sudden movement Merlin flung his arms skyward. He spoke no words, again confusing Arthur, but still some magic was cast. As Merlin's eyes again burned gold, the ash covering the ground leapt into the air, reducing visibility to zero for a long second before it too disappeared. What was left on the ground was a coating of blackened grass and flowers, a sorry sight if ever Arthur saw one – the clearing must have once been beautiful. The servant looked around and Arthur could see a profound sadness in his eyes, the same sadness the prince felt at seeing the ruined meadow. Reaching into his jacket, Merlin pulled out a small pouch, before scattering some sort of sand that was inside it all around him.

"What is he doing?" Gwen murmured.

"We went to see what he was scattering about after he left the last clearing," Lancelot replied. "They're seeds."

"Seeds?"

"Seeds," Lancelot nodded. "Grass seeds, flower seeds... we think he spent the first hours after the battle collecting as many as he could fit in there, his pockets too."

Lancelot was cut off from further explanation as Merlin froze in mid-shake. Afraid they had been heard; all four held their breaths as he dropped the pouch to the floor and walked slowly towards them. Arthur's heart beat faster until he felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. But Merlin wasn't looking towards their bush. Eyes fixed on the ground, the servant crouched down about five metres away, facing towards them. His lips turned down in an anguished expression and Arthur wondered at the cause of it. Tenderly, Merlin reached downwards and a slight movement on the ground drew Arthur's eye.

It was a butterfly. An honest-to-goodness butterfly.

How the creature had survived the flames and being buried in ash, Arthur didn't know. But there it was, fluttering feebly in the dirt. Merlin scooped it up, cupping it in two hands. It was badly damaged – one wing was only a stump and the other had such a large hole in it that it was a strange, crescent moon shape. Arthur couldn't even tell what kind of butterfly it was without the wing-markings to identify it with. He watched in fascination as Merlin gently ran a finger along its fluffy body, looking at the creature with such compassion that Arthur felt an unexpected blossom of pride for his servant swell in his chest. It was only a mere butterfly, but the look on Merlin's face was the same as the one he had displayed whilst delivering his speech about destiny and choice before Arthur nearly made the mistake of marrying Princess Elena – a look conveying so much faith and compassion that you couldn't help but be drawn in.

For a while Merlin just studied the creature, gently touching its damaged wings and singed antennae as if comforting it. Then, cupping both hands again, he brought the butterfly closer to his face and blew softly onto it.

The butterfly's body became a brilliant blue, radiating silver light while Merlin's eyes blazed brighter than ever before. Rays of light arced from the man's hands, bathing the whole area in a soft glow. Some of the beams touched the ground in the clearing and where they did, the seeds Merlin had scattered flashed blue before suddenly germinating. All around the servant fresh new grass reached towards the sky, the stems of flowers dotted at random in-between.

It was the most innocent and beautiful example of magic that Arthur had ever seen, and he found himself struck dumb, gaping like a fish.

When the light died there, in Merlin's gentle hands, was the butterfly – a Peacock Butterfly. The azure blue eye-spots on its newly-restored wings flashed as they opened and closed a few times, as if the butterfly couldn't quite believe it had them back. Merlin smiled and laughed softly before he murmured something which Arthur thought sounded suspiciously like: 'You're welcome'. Then he raised his cupped hands and once more gently blew on the butterfly. This time, it took to the sky.

The smile gracing Merlin's features was huge as he watched the healed butterfly flutter in gay circles around his head and Arthur felt a small smile spread across his own face at the innocent picture they represented. Merlin laughed once more before he gently flicked a finger. A warm gust of wind sighed through the clearing, catching the butterfly's wings and boosting it up towards the open sky, where it disappeared over the trees. Merlin remained crouched there for a while, smiling upwards, before he eventually stood and picked up the pouch he had dropped. He seemed surprised at the random patterns of grass and flowers around him, but did nothing to change it and after looking around the clearing one more time the servant turned and walked away into the trees.

Once he had disappeared, the group remained quiet for a while, processing what they had seen. Gwen was the first to break the silence.

"That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

The three men murmured various agreements and Arthur sat up, brushing some ash from the front of his red tunic. For Arthur, Merlin's little display held much more significance for him than mere beauty. He made it no secret that he had once agreed with his father: that magic was a force for evil. But now, Arthur found he didn't quite believe that. Something that was evil could never be used for something such as what Merlin just did. What if magic was like fire? Neither good nor bad, but could be used for either depending on the morality of the user?

He was startled by a movement out of the corner of his eye.

As Arthur watched, the little Peacock Butterfly landed on his shoulder. It sat there for a minute or so, delicately cleaning its antennae and its coiled proboscis. It was almost as if it were showing itself off, proving to Arthur that what he had just seen was real. Then with two quick flicks of its glorious wings it fluttered off into the clearing to settle on a blooming flower.

Arthur smiled softly to himself before getting to his feet. The two knights and Gwen mirrored him, having not noticed his little friend.

"Come, we should return to Camelot. The clean-up is still on-going and we really should be there to help."

"Shouldn't we keep tracking Merlin, Sire?"

Lancelot asked the question and Arthur could have sworn the man was challenging him. Gwaine too had a similar look on his face and both gazed steadily at him. He felt he could no longer justify any ill-feelings toward the gentle knight. Like Merlin, Lancelot valued loyalty above most everything else and who knew what the story behind his knowledge was? For all Arthur knew Merlin could have saved Lancelot's life in the past. He gave the knight a broad smile; if that were truly the case, then of course the man was going to look out for the servant. He understood what the two knights had done: if he didn't think he had an audience Merlin wore his heart on his sleeve for all to see. Arthur needed no more proof of his intentions.

"No, from what I've seen Merlin is doing his bit to clean up the area. Let's go."

He watched over his shoulder as Gwaine, Lancelot and Gwen shared three significant glances, gently smiling at each other before hurrying to catch up with their prince.

Arthur would have to have a long talk with Merlin when he finally returned to the castle after restoring life to the forest. He had a lot of questions and Merlin was _going_ to answer them. But they would do so in a civilised manner, he owed the man at least that much. He also knew that the trust would have to be rebuilt, as well as their friendship. But the foundation they had to build on – based on loyalty and respect for each other – was a solid one, and Arthur knew that things would be back to normal soon enough.

Well, as normal as things could get with that bloody idiot around anyway.

-~-**M**-~-

_**Well, I'm not quite sure where this one came from – the scene with Merlin and the butterfly popped into my head when I was listening to a song (called "Fire and Ice" by Groove Addicts. Look it up on YouTube if you're interested) and I just had to get it down. It turned out longer than I thought it would though, but I'm happy with it.  
We're often told in the series how Merlin's magic is 'good', however there are rarely examples of his pureness of heart – with most of his magic being used to either save the Kingdom or for tasks such as chores and playing around with Arthur. The only example I can think of is when he used magic to move some smoke into the shape of a rearing horse. So, I thought I'd make my own, because you can never have enough magic!**_

_**Translation: "**__Isenordál sé æðm__**" – Old English for "**__Clear the air__**", or close enough to it that I could find.**_

_**XD :D XD**_


	2. The Wisdom of an Old Man

The Wisdom of an Old Man

Arthur paused with his hand lifted to the old wooden doors. They hadn't changed throughout his life and he honestly couldn't count how many times he had been through them for one reason or another. But never before had he simply looked at them and, right now, staring at a piece of old wood felt like a much easier option compared to what he had planned.

There was a slight crack near the old latch; probably the result of one-too-many a door slam and for all he knew, the cause could have been him in one of his less-controlled moments. A little above eye-level, a knot in the wood looked remarkably like a dragon – the Pendragon crest…

…In the top corner a different knot looked like a shield.

…Oh and in the bottom corner was what appeared to be an upside-down flower.

After a moment of internal silence the young prince almost scoffed aloud at himself. An upside-down flower? Really? Arthur had faced down dragons, afancs and griffins; questing beasts, gargoyles and wyverns. He had stared death in the face regularly for years, despite any fear and doubt he may have harboured. He had been prepared to lay down his life without a thought for the good of his Kingdom, the People and those that he loved.

If he had done all that, then why was just knocking on this door turning out to be one of the hardest things he had yet done?

Though that was the entire point, wasn't it? It _was_ the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

He was standing here, outside Gaius' chambers, to find out the truth. To find out exactly how many of those magical encounters – and many others besides, for he had no doubt there were more – had been successful by his own design and how many had actually been the work of his manservant.

Merlin, the sorcerer.

Arthur had long since gotten over his initial feelings of anger and fear, and though the betrayal still lingered under his skin like a nettle-sting, he was prepared to listen. If the prince was right about even half of what he thought he was, then Merlin had been doing both himself and Camelot a great service these past three or four years. He owed the man his time and full attention, along with so much more.

He'd made sure his father didn't find out. He doubted the man would be able to process it – virtually everyone was a betrayer or a sorcerer to him now – but that was one voice they didn't need to deal with just now.

Merlin had been living on a knife's edge, dodging the threat of discovery and death to save him over and over again. Had he ever gotten any thanks or recognition for that? No. Had he ever let the fact that he knew the very people he was saving would turn on him, if they realised his method of doing so, stop him? No. And had he ever abused these abilities and allowed them to corrupt him as it had done so many others? No. All that just proved what a noble heart Merlin had. He had never requested a simple thank-you, or become bitter over receiving nothing for his efforts. That was the kind of man Merlin was; he didn't want glory or fame, all he wanted was for his friends to be happy and for the Kingdom to be peaceful. Those simple things were more than reward enough for him and Arthur admired the man for that more than he could ever say.

After the reveal of his magic, Arthur hadn't spoken to Merlin even once, despite the fact that it had been nearly a week now since that fateful battle. They had seen each other in passing a few times and at one point Arthur had even spied on his manservant from the safety of a bush as the warlock breathed life back into the ruined forests surrounding the castle. But it had never been the right time to talk and both of them seemed to be avoiding each other; both of them dreading the conversation that they knew they needed, but didn't want. Arthur knew he was positively dreading it; once this conversation was done, nothing would be the same and he had to admit that he was _afraid_. After such a radical shift in his view of magic, he had initially looked forward to things getting back to normal. But he had soon realised that things would never be normal again, at least not like they once were. One of the best things in his life was the easy camaraderie he shared with his manservant – no, he was kidding himself again, his _friend_. But he knew that the whole dynamic of their friendship was going to change. He felt sure they were still friends, but their relationship would never be the same again. How it was going to change, Arthur couldn't say, and he was reluctant to find out. So he kept putting the talk off, avoiding the warlock as he tried to pull out the courage to put things right.

However, much to Arthur's dismay, _everyone__ else_ seemed to be avoiding Merlin as well.

Apart from the incident in the forest, during the few other times that the prince had caught a sight of Merlin, the warlock had been all on his own. Peasants, knights and nobility alike shunned him – none knew how to react to the young man who had saved their lives in such a powerful, extravagant and blatantly illegal way. Noone approached him about what he had done and noone offered to help him or asked for his help in turn. Arthur had the feeling that the whole of Camelot was holding its breath, waiting to see what he, the Crowned Prince and Regent, would do.

Even the other members of the Round Table had yet to speak to Merlin, though not for lack of trying in some cases. Percival, Leon and Elyan, once the shock faded, seemed relatively indifferent and were waiting on Arthur's decision; whatever the prince decided he felt sure he would have their support. Gwaine and Lancelot on the other hand had been actively trying – and failing – to seek the warlock out. Arthur couldn't help but notice that – despite the fact that they had pledged fealty to him and would die for him without a second thought – both of those knights' true loyalty was with _Merlin_, not him. They had effectively tricked Arthur into spying on Merlin those few days ago and he had no doubt that it was done so he could see the true nature of magic and the way that Merlin wielded it. He didn't hold it against them. How could he after all they had done for Camelot?

Guinevere hadn't spoken to Merlin either. She hadn't sought him out and according to her it appeared he hadn't approached her either. It was likely that the reason for this was less due to active avoidance and more due to the fact that, in the effort to rebuild, they had been working in completely different areas; Gwen inside with the wounded and Merlin clearing rubble in the lower town. Arthur had no idea about Gaius, and that was partly what he was here to find out.

Because, the problem was, Arthur didn't understand.

The quality which was most sought-after in knights was undying loyalty and Merlin possessed more of it than any knight – past or present – that Arthur had ever seen. But the man was a servant; though loyalty was expected of them, Merlin took it to a whole new level that had earned the respect of Arthur and the senior knights several times over.

However, therein lay the problem. Merlin wasn't a knight and he would never have the capacity to be one – he wasn't even born in Camelot, having been raised in Cenred's kingdom. Yet still, he had the heart of one and many had seen it and recognised it.

What Arthur didn't understand was _why_. What had he done to earn such loyalty from someone? Not to mention someone with magic?

All those years ago, Merlin had drunk from a chalice he knew to contain poison in order to protect his prince. If Merlin had magic back then – which Arthur suspected he did – he would surely have known that, despite their growing bond with each other, Arthur wouldn't have stopped his father from executing him. True, he would have shied away from the idea, but if he had been faced with irrefutable evidence, he would have accepted Merlin's fate.

Yet still, Merlin had been willing to just throw his life away for an arrogant young prince. Arthur wasn't exactly proud of the person he had been way back then. He had changed quite a lot since – yet another thing he had a feeling he had Merlin to thank for – and, looking back, he just couldn't find any reason for him to have been deserving of such loyalty.

It just didn't make any sense.

It was nearly ten minutes that he had been standing on Gaius' doorstep procrastinating now. Arthur's mind was going round in circles; these thoughts had been at war in his head for days now and it was about time he acted like the king he was going to become and swallowed his fears to get some answers.

Taking a deep breath, he finally managed to make himself knock, rapping sharply on the door before letting himself in.

The familiar smell of herbs, parchment, old leather and other various things Arthur associated with the physician was the first thing he noticed; it was something else that had never changed. The room was dark – dusk having long-since fallen – so it was lit by a multitude of candles, as well as a few Bunsens. The air was moist and humid, probably the result of days of brewing poultices and potions for the injured. The physician himself was stood behind his workbench, swirling a steaming flask filled with some sort of vibrant green liquid. Across the room and opposite Arthur was Merlin's room; the door was open and the prince could see from where he was stood that the warlock was not in it.

"Ah, Sire. I'll be with you in a minute."

Arthur turned his attention back to the old man as he placed the flask back onto a tripod and turned down the Bunsen's flame. Taking off his eye-glasses, he made his way around the bench to stand in front of Arthur, his hands clasped casually into his sleeves in front of him.

Gaius looked completely jaded. His clothes were a little rumpled and his hair was lank and greasy, his face was pale and his eyes were surrounded by dark bags. The opposing army had taken great pleasure in burning to the ground virtually all of the forests surrounding Camelot. As a result, Gaius had found himself growing short of herbs and unable to replace them. The apothecary and the lower town had been cleared of anything useful by Elyan and the physician had then found himself having to use all of his knowledge to find alternative remedies using the herbs he did have. Most of these were inferior to the usual ones and took much more time and effort to prepare. This was the reason why Gwen was in charge of the daily care of the injured, whilst Gaius was working round-the-clock in here. Their one saving grace was that any injuries were either fatal or minor; no people were in a critical condition, which was one thing less to worry about. There were lots of injured people and it was hard work, but Gaius knew what he was doing – he had probably even seen worse than this before.

"How can I help you my Lord? I am a little busy right now, though I do have plenty of potions to aid sleep if that is what you require?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I admit I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights, but then who has?"

When Arthur went quiet and said no more, Gaius merely raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Over the years, Arthur had learnt – with good reason – to both fear and respect 'The Eyebrow'. It was a look which Gaius had perfected and it had countless different meanings. It was a look that had been known to even intimidate the King at times and was never to be underestimated. This time, it was a query, asking Arthur to 'get on with it and tell me the real reason you are here.'

"I'm looking for Merlin; I really need to speak with him. Have you seen him?"

Arthur wasn't sure whether or not he had imagined the brief flicker of fear that flashed through the physician's eyes at that, but it was gone before he could be certain.

"I'm afraid not Sire. Though I have seen Merlin in passing a number of times, he hasn't slept in his bed since before the battle started. I know not what he has been doing, but he hasn't been in here at all to my knowledge."

Gaius' words caused Arthur more worry than he would care to admit. Merlin had always had some sort of priority complex, his repeated insistence that he had to protect Arthur notwithstanding. When he was worried about something, food and sleep were the first things to go and he would refuse to admit anything was wrong, getting himself into a furious downward spiral until he collapsed and it was forced out of him.

When Arthur didn't reply, Gaius spoke again.

"Is there anything else Sire?"

Arthur jolted back to himself; his mind had been wandering again. "No, that is all. If he returns here can you inform me at once? It's rather urgent."

Again the flicker of fear, but again it was gone too quickly for Arthur to be sure.

"I fear I may be too busy for that my Lord. Though, if he turns up here, I'll be sure to send him to you."

Arthur nodded in thanks, turning to make his way out of the door. Gaius walked back around the bench again, though Arthur could see him casting him furtive glances out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure what exactly caused him to stop but, suddenly, he couldn't keep it in anymore. He _had _to know.

"Why did he do it?"

"Sire?"

Arthur was still facing the door, but he would have to have been deaf not to notice the slight trepidation in Gaius' voice. The prince had interrogated prisoners before; he knew all the signs of fear and of lying. Though on saying that, Merlin seemed to have been able to slip him lies all the time…

Discarding that thought before it could develop further, Arthur span round to face the physician. The old man had paused with his hand about to turn up the Bunsen, his eyes fixing the prince with a steady stare. The look spoke volumes and this time the physician allowed them to hide nothing. Gaius was worried – terrified even – over what Arthur may do to Merlin. The prince didn't think Gaius was lying about Merlin not having been in the room for days, but he knew the man wouldn't tell him more about his ward right now, not with these suspicions.

"I'm not going to turn him in Gaius… I couldn't. Nor would I even think of putting him to-"

Arthur couldn't finish. His worries about rebuilding the kingdom after the battle and everything that entailed weren't the only reason for his lack of sleep. Almost every time the prince shut his eyes he was plagued by images of fire; engulfing everything in its path and roaring through town and forest alike to the symphony of agonising screams. Screams that were familiar, even though he had never heard that particular voice ever make such a sound.

He was snapped out of his musing when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Meeting Gaius' eyes, he saw that the worry wasn't completely gone, though this time there was also a kind of fatherly concern and sympathy present in them. It was a look Arthur had always found himself craving but, as a prince, he generally refused to allow himself to accept.

The physician guided him to the table used for eating, pushing him into a chair before seating himself opposite and fixing his gaze on him. Arthur fidgeted before starting to speak, suddenly desperate to get Gaius to understand.

"I swear Gaius, I won't kill him. I can't! But I don't get it… why would he-? He's always been- …I don't _understand_!"

"_Calm down_ Arthur."

Arthur quieted immediately. What was wrong with him? He had been babbling on like some kind of hormonal woman! He felt heat rise in his cheeks as they started to colour in his embarrassment, which Gaius correctly interpreted.

"There's no need to be embarrassed Sire. You have been under a lot of pressure these past few days; you're tired, you're worried and you're stressed. It is perfectly normal for you to experience such emotional backlash as this. You may have been taught differently, but you are a human being, not a statue. In fact, with the events of this particular battle, I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner."

Arthur's gaze came back up at that. Few people were able to be so forward with him without fear of repercussion. Gaius had virtually had a hand in raising Arthur and though he was always as polite as propriety demanded, he had never shied away from saying what needed to be said. He was right too; Arthur had always been taught that displaying your feelings displayed your weaknesses. It was a wise teaching to an extent and did have firm roots in truth, especially in the court or in a fight. However, recently he had learned – and again, he had a feeling Merlin had a major hand in this – that it was alright to show your feelings. Feelings of passion and courage inspired people to follow you, feelings of humility and love kept them there. He decided to settle for a compromise; not burying his feelings, but making sure to keep a hold of himself. Whether or not openly expressing his feelings was a good thing he had yet to fully decide and it would always be a difficult subject for him. But flying off the handle right now would do him no favours, nor would it particularly impress Gaius.

"Sorry Gaius," he said whilst rubbing at his temples wearily. "I'm sure I made absolutely no sense just then."

The physician nodded slightly, a twinkle appearing briefly in his eye.

"I decided almost immediately that I wasn't going to sentence Merlin to death _or_ banish him. I could never have done it and that was without the fact that he single-handedly saved the kingdom the other day."

Arthur watched the man visibly relax, looking briefly at his hands before returning his gaze to him. The look Gaius was giving him now was… almost _proud_. He had always seen the physician as a father-figure of sorts and the look Gaius was giving him gave him a warm, tingly feeling inside. How he wished his father looked at him like that!

"I must say Arthur; it takes an incredible amount of maturity to have to face your morals. Growing up having something drilled into your mind as you have, then having to re-evaluate and make your own decision on it is hard. Not to mention the added difficulty of it being such a personal subject for you."

Here the physician sighed, looking suddenly a lot older.

"Your father had valid reasons for leading the Purge as he did and he brought peace in a time of chaos and sorrow. Magic was being abused by a great many people and the situation was getting out of control. However, you know as well as I do that Uther started to take it more and more personally; fear became hate, hate became an obsession. This obsession has become his downfall. Your father made a great many enemies in his vendetta against magic and it was no accident that Camelot has been on the receiving end of so many magical attacks. Revenge is never-ending and it takes a brave and wise person to say 'no' to it."

A truer statement there was not and Arthur had long been aware of the almost compulsive hate his father displayed as soon as the subject of magic was raised. There were never any second chances, there was no leniency. Magic was punishable by death, that's all there had ever been to it with his father.

However, one thing intrigued Arthur about what Gaius had said, and it was a conclusion the prince had only recently come to himself.

"So you don't believe magic is evil then?"

"Magic is no more evil than a sword. It is a tool to be used, nothing more."

Arthur nodded, he now thought the same. What he had seen Merlin doing for that butterfly and the trees hadn't been evil. A unicorn wasn't evil either, nor was the healing magic he had heard of. The physician continued:

"I am sure you are aware that I once practiced magic?"

This wasn't news to Arthur, so he merely nodded his head.

"I was never powerful. I found even the simplest spells difficult and touching magic at all is a bit hit-and-miss for me now. But I have knowledge; something I am more than willing to pass on."

Though Arthur had guessed as much, Gaius was as good as admitting that he had always known about Merlin's magic, that he had in fact been nurturing it. This went a long way towards explaining just how Gaius and Merlin had always seemed to come up with some miracle-cure or another at the very last minute. Though again, Arthur had already guessed this much.

There was also something more subtle in what Gaius was saying. It was an offer; the physician was more than willing to answer the prince's questions.

"What does Merlin believe? About the magic?"

Gaius paused, before sighing and resting his arms on the table.

"Really, Merlin should be the one to tell you this, not me. And I'm warning you now that I will only tell you so much – this is his story to tell and I won't do it for him. However, to be frank, your avoidance of each other is getting rather ridiculous."

"You've noticed that?"

Again with the eyebrow, making Gaius' answer to that question a fairly obvious one. The man still possessed the ability to make Arthur feel like the eight-year-old who had just been caught playing with his father's sword and he felt his cheeks starting to colour again. Though, he had to admit, it was nice to have confirmation that he hadn't been imagining things and that Merlin really had been avoiding him too.

"Merlin believes that magic has a purpose: for the betterment of the environment and those who are suffering around you."

Despite things, Arthur wasn't surprised. Such an opinion definitely went with what he already knew – or thought he knew – of the warlock's beliefs.

"I am sad to say that he is fairly alone in that belief. Though I would like to agree with him, I think that it is more of an ideal than a true purpose. Merlin can tend to be a bit biased when it comes to magic."

"What do you mean?"

Again Gaius paused, his eyes seeming to be gazing far into the distance as he thought; Arthur got the feeling that the physician was deciding how much to actually tell him. Eventually, he seemed to come to a decision and locked his gaze back on Arthur's.

"How much do you know about Merlin's magic, Arthur?"

The prince thought it over for a moment before answering.

"It's powerful – I watched Merlin stop weapons of war with the smallest amount of effort. He blew up all of their catapults at the same time, he spoke no words and it was almost as if it were only a casual exercise to him."

Arthur paused, he had seen this of magic before; he already knew of the destruction it could reap. But what he was about to admit now was entirely new, and it was all because of what he had seen in Merlin.

"It's beautiful…" he said in no more than a whisper, though Gaius seemed to hear just fine, as he started to smile along with Arthur. "I followed him a few days ago. I watched him as he healed trees and banished the suffocating smog. I watched him scatter seeds afterwards so that the grass and flowers would grow back. I watched him pick up a crippled butterfly and heal it by doing no more than blowing on it willing it so.

"I've seen so much destruction wrought by magic, but Merlin turned it all onto its head. He didn't kill a single person when he used his magic to retaliate in that battle and he waited until there was no other hope left to do so. I would trust no other person to wield such power and I know no other man who is as loyal and noble as he is."

It felt good to acknowledge that aloud, almost as if he was clearing his head. Gaius was still smiling and he gave a brief chuckle.

"Merlin is certainly different and though his naïvety astounds me at times, it is that innocence – amongst other things – which makes him so special. You mentioned that Merlin used no words to cast his magic? That is unique to him; he can cast spells with a mere thought and the smallest amount of effort."

Here were the start of the answers Arthur sought and he mirrored Gaius' position, leaning forward almost eagerly. Maybe now he would be able to understand and then find the confidence to have this desperately-needed conversation with Merlin.

"How is that possible?"

"Merlin was born with magic."

Arthur was struck dumb. That wasn't quite what he had been expecting.

"That was my reaction as well. For most magic-users their abilities emerge as they age, some earlier than others. All must then work hard studying spells in order to develop their powers further. But Merlin was able to move objects telepathically before he could talk, or even crawl. With just a thought – and I saw him do this before he had ever read a spell on the first day he came here – he can slow down or speed up time for either a person or an object at his will. Never in recorded history has such a thing been reported, he is unique."

It was a staggering concept and raised huge implications in Arthur's mind. Merlin had been condemned to die from birth and he never had a choice in the matter. Merlin's was a special case, but from what Gaius was saying, magic developed in some people whether they wanted it to or not. It was not a choice for them, much like it had never been his choice to be a prince. Right now, the true injustice of his father's relentless persecution of magic was coming to light and Arthur wasn't quite sure what to make of it. But Gaius wasn't done.

"Magic is impersonal and open-ended; the craft itself isn't good or evil. But based on how it is used, it comes in two main forms. You are more than acquainted with the nature of the Black Magic which is used to inflict pain and destruction. But the other type, White Magic, generally includes all of the healing magics and the ones used to change and create. Unfortunately it is easier to destroy than to restore and it is easy to allow your own vanity to corrupt your use of it."

Arthur's mind drank up this new information as if it were water in a heat-wave. He had only just started to realise how complex magic was, though little had he realised exactly _how _complicated. He couldn't help but feel that, if people were educated on the uses of magic by wise people such as Gaius, they could have been encouraged to use it correctly. This could have prevented the need for the Purge and such a huge loss of innocent lives and the need for such fear and mindless revenge in the first place.

"Magic is not simple, nor is it easy to understand. Though many had told Uther as much – including me – his quest to rid the land of magic was doomed to failure from the start."

Again, this was something which became fairly obvious to Arthur quite some time ago. No matter what they did or how many people were executed, people seeking revenge or 'justice' always seemed to rise up from the shadows.

"While we categorise most magic into Black and White – even going so far as to call it 'good' and 'evil' or 'light' and 'dark' – it actually isn't as simple as that. There are many shades of grey in-between and both magic-types can be used by people of opposite moralities."

"Where does the magic come from? I know you've said that Merlin was born with it, but what do you mean by that?"

This was one of the reasons why it had been hard for Arthur to accept that Merlin had magic, never mind that he was so powerful. The prince had made it his mission in life to bulk Merlin up and get him to put on some weight; he was effectively a stick and it was… strange to think that such a man could have that much power inside of him, let alone have it as a child.

"Ah, and now you have come upon the real question, and something your father never accepted or understood.

"Magic is all around us, some have even gone so far as to call it 'The Fifth Element'. It exists in everything, connecting things together in intricate ways which we can clearly see, but that I don't think we will ever fully understand. It exists freely in nature and in this form it is known as raw magic, though it's also known as 'elemental magic' or 'natural magic'. Whilst in some places, such as the Isle of the Blessed or the Lake of Avalon, it is more concentrated, it is present everywhere and flows across the land in great rivers of energy, known as ley lines.

"People 'with magic' can call on this web of energy, changing the raw magic into a form that they can manipulate using spells, crystals, runes or other special objects. I am one such person, a sorcerer. As I said though, my ability to do so is greatly diminished and I was never all that powerful. However, even rarer than that, are those who have this raw magic inside themselves naturally, as well as being able to call on the energy surrounding them. These people are not sorcerers or sorceresses, they are the witches and warlocks and Merlin is such a person – it is for this reason that he is able to cast spells without speaking.

"The study and use of this raw energy – usually in the form of controlling the elements of earth, fire, water and air or mirroring the processes of life, death and time – is what is known as the Old Religion."

That made sense and answered some questions that Arthur had been pondering for a while. However, Gaius seemed to be deep in thought again and the prince had the suspicion that there was still much more to it.

He had heard the term 'Old Religion' mentioned a few times before in order to explain the source of a creature, so it was nice to finally know more about what that had meant; that they had been conjured from the ancient power that constantly flowed around them. Such a thought was nightmarish in its implications, especially if there was _more _to the subject. But the prince's view of his meek young manservant had long-since been shattered and if Arthur wanted to understand Merlin, understanding his magic was the first step. Understanding why he used it for the reasons he did would have to come directly from the man himself. He didn't think things could get much worse now and he had come for answers – he wanted full ones, no more secrets.

"You said Merlin was special, that he was born with the ability to use magic. What does that mean for his powers now?"

"It means that, on talent and power alone, Merlin is the single most powerful magic-user in all of Albion, maybe even beyond."

Arthur could find no response to that. Though what exactly _could_ he say to a revelation such as that, and delivered so bluntly too?

"The sheer amount of raw power that Merlin has inside of him is unfathomable. When I said that a warlock can use the raw magic inside of them to cast spells, I meant only weaker spells; greater ones require additional energy from their surroundings. However, Merlin has so much that he can easily cast silent spells which many other magic-users would struggle to cast with words, never mind on pure instinct alone."

Gaius was troubled again, he was fidgeting.

"Many times in the beginning, the boy's sheer ability for magic scared me. Especially when I considered the idea that, with no purpose for his magic or proper guidance, his powers could have corrupted both himself and those around him. To Merlin, using magic is as natural as breathing; he can't just stop himself from using it and he has told me before that if he is faced with doing so, he may as well die. I have known his mother for a long time, and that was why she sent him to me when keeping his magic a secret became impossible in such a small village, despite Camelot being the hot-bed for anti-magic crusades.

"I have long-since learnt that my fears were without ground, though the reason for that is something Merlin should explain to you himself."

That was all well and good, but it didn't explain the fidgeting and Arthur felt a crawling sensation working its way up his spine.

"I still don't understand, Gaius. How does Merlin have such power?"

"I'll be honest Arthur, this isn't an easy concept to grasp – it makes understanding magic look _easy_. Merlin has more magic and wields it more easily than anyone ever recorded before him. He is an enigma.

"The Old Religion is the source of all magic; from it creatures such as unicorns, faeries and dragons are born and when they die, they are returned to it. They are kin, they _are_ magic. I noticed long ago that the magic Merlin uses is raw magic, the magic of the Old Religion; he has the instinctive ability to use the Old Tongue, the language used to cast spells; and animals are attracted to him, ones of the Old Religion especially.

"Merlin lives and breathes magic. He _is_ magic."

If Arthur's image of Merlin had been shattered before, Gaius was now grinding it into a fine dust.

"What do you mean?"

"I meant exactly what I said," here the physician stopped, sighing. "This is a conclusion that I have only recently come to myself, and I don't think that Merlin truly understands this about himself yet. Though I believe he has recently started to get an inkling.

"Merlin has a lot of magic and having that much should be impossible. What I have now come to believe is that the boy doesn't just _have_ magic: he _is_ magic. He is as much a creature of the Old Religion as a unicorn or a dragon is and it is the reason for his abilities."

Arthur's mind was spinning. While he had expected something outrageous, he was getting so much more than he had ever bargained for. He didn't think he ever could have come up with something on this sort of scale; he had never had that much of an imagination.

"So what are you saying? That Merlin isn't human?"

"Merlin is as human as you or I, yet at the same time he is not."

"Right…"

This was just too big for Arthur to understand, not right away at least.

"He is a question that has never been asked before Arthur, and it is my opinion that our Merlin is magic in human form. _That_ is the reason why he has such immense powers and why they developed as they did. It is also the reason why he is so biased when it comes to magic: when he doubts magic, he doubts himself."

Finally, Gaius fell silent.

Arthur now knew exactly why Merlin had come to Camelot, why he had such amazing powers and he was pretty sure he also had an idea of why he had kept them a secret from him. However, the golden question still hadn't been answered.

Why_ did Merlin use his powers to protect_ Arthur_?_

Ever-astute, Gaius must have read something in his face, because he stood to make his way back to his workbench.

"The rest is Merlin's story to tell, Arthur. I have no right to reveal it."

Arthur watched as Gaius turned the Bunsen on again, using a long piece of thin wood to stir the contents of the flask. No more words were exchanged as the physician went back to work and the prince allowed all that he had learnt to settle in his mind, monumental as it was. By now, it was pitch black outside and the candles were half the height they had been when he first entered. It had to be approaching midnight, but Arthur knew that sleep would not come to him. Not now, with his mind so full. Other than the bubbling of liquid and the quiet breathing of the two men, things were silent. The People worked hard during the day, tumbling into their beds at night and causing Camelot to be as silent as the grave until morning light. It was the perfect time to think, the perfect time for uninterrupted conversations...

Eventually, Arthur stood. He didn't know how he knew, but he had the suspicion that a certain warlock – not a sorcerer, as he now knew – was having as much difficulty in sleeping as he himself was. This had gone on long enough. Both of them had always shied away from talking about feelings, it wasn't their relationship. However, if their relationship was going to change, then maybe this was one way that they could change it for the better? No more secrets, no more lies; it was an openness that sounded strangely appealing. Though he loved Guinevere for her support and honesty (among other things), Arthur needed a confidante and he was sure Merlin did too. The warlock insisted on protecting Arthur; what better way to repay that then to allow Arthur the opportunity to return the favour and for them to work out their demons together?

Resolved, Arthur made his way once again to those wooden doors that were so familiar, his head held high.

"Sire?"

Arthur paused, looking at the physician with a raised eyebrow. "Yes Gaius?"

"I would have asked that you wait until morning, but I know that is not going to happen. However I do ask, once you are finished, that you send Merlin back here for some rest and then get some yourself. Lord knows how long that boy has gone without proper food or sleep and I can tell that you have been neglecting your own needs also. You may both be taller than me, but I have no qualms about knocking the pair of you out with my best sleeping draught and I have _ways_ to make sure you take it."

For the first time in days a wide, genuine smile spread across Arthur's face. He had no doubt that – wise and experienced as he was – Gaius would find a way to follow through on his threats. The old man had always been there for Arthur, and now for Merlin too. Both of them owed the physician a lot and it was only now that Arthur understood just how much.

"Of course, I'll knock the idiot out myself if I have to."

"Indeed." Arthur turned away, but once more Gaius called out to him. "Oh and Sire, might I suggest the stables? I think your constant sending him there made the place start to rub off on him. He's probably hiding amongst the hay-bales somewhere or tucked away in the rafters."

Arthur felt a laugh bubble up inside of him. If Merlin wanted to hide it was the perfect place; considering how much the man moaned about being in there it was the last place that the Prince would have ever thought to look.

"And yet, they are still always a mess." The Prince replied in his usual, haughty tone of voice.

Both men shared a bemused smile before Arthur opened the door to let himself out. Just before he shut it again, he stuck his head back through the gap.

"Thank-you Gaius. For everything."

"The pleasure was mine Arthur. You can always come to me; you _both_ can. Things will be right again, you'll see."

With one last smile Arthur closed the door, making his way down the stairs and into the main corridor. As he walked his footfalls echoed eerily in the silence, his stomach was doing flips and he could feel a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. But he would not be swayed. Change was coming, and he was ready to embrace it.

Making his way down the stairs, Arthur took a deep breath before making his way across the moonlit courtyard, ready to face a certain warlock and then, to face his future.

**-~-M-~-**

_**And there you have it. I'm planning on writing one final part to the 'On the Wings of a Butterfly' series, the last one hopefully containing The Dreaded Conversation. But there will be a lot of angst in that one so I'd need to psyche myself up for it, as I have a terrible habit of writing things all in one go.**_

_**XD :D XD**_


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